


The Great Baltimore Bake Off

by popsicle_stick



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - The Great British Bake Off Fusion, Crack, M/M, Snippets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-22
Updated: 2017-05-22
Packaged: 2018-11-03 11:57:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10966737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/popsicle_stick/pseuds/popsicle_stick
Summary: “You two ready?” Beverly Katz called out across the field. Two hands emerged from behind a large bale of hay and flashed two thumbs ups. “Alright folks, let’s go!” She hefted her camera and motioned to Matthew Brown to move the boom into place.After a few beats, Brian Zeller and Jimmy Price peeked out from behind the bale. “Welcome to the Great Baltimore Bake Off!” They proclaimed in unison.





	The Great Baltimore Bake Off

“You two ready?” Beverly Katz called out across the field. Two hands emerged from behind a large bale of hay and flashed two thumbs ups. “Alright folks, let’s go!” She hefted her camera and motioned to Matthew Brown to move the boom into place.

After a few beats, Brian Zeller and Jimmy Price peeked out from behind the bale. “Welcome to the Great Baltimore Bake Off!” They proclaimed in unison.

* * *

The twelve bakers clustered outside of the tent, waiting for their cue to walk in.

“Hannibal, what a surprise.” Frederick Chilton drawled.

“Hello, Frederick.” Hannibal replied cordially.

“Oh, do you two know one another? How fun!” A rotund man inquired, inserting himself into the conversation.

“Fredrick and I attended medical school together.” Hannibal explained shortly.

“Yes. His cooking was quite the rage in our mutual study groups.” Fredrick smiled thinly.

* * *

“And what do you have here, Tobias?” Zeller inquired.

“Violin string. I find it makes a versatile garrote… for cutting cakes.”

* * *

“Hannibal? I don’t find him that interesting.” Will replied. “I mean, his cake looked beautiful, but it wasn’t very inventive.”

In the background of the shot, Hannibal frowns thoughtfully.

* * *

“Oh, Hannibal! What a coincidence! We’re both making a cheesecake!” Franklyn effused. “Great minds think alike and all that!”

* * *

“Can you tell us about your biscuits, Will?” Price inquired.

“Ah, yeah.” Will stammered. “They’re actually based on treat that I make my dogs. That’s, uh, how I got into baking...”

* * *

“It appears that Will has fallen asleep while watching his bake.”

“Poor thing, he must be _doggone_ tired.” Price quipped.

* * *

“So, Hannibal, isn’t it?” Freddie simpered, sliding up alongside Hannibal. “Are you quite sure you haven’t had professional training? You’re so talented! Unlike Will, poor thing, his tart looks quite misshapen.”

“You’re being quite rude, Miss Lounds.”

* * *

“You’re putting on a show, Dr. Lecter.” Will stated flatly. “Giving people what they expect to see without exposing any of your true personality. I wonder when you'll show us an original design.”

* * *

“So, Abigail. I hear you’re going off to school next year. Do you know what you’ll be majoring in?” Price asked the youngest contestant.  
“Uh, no not yet. To be honest, I'm worried about my Dad letting me go.” She laughed, but it held a slight undercurrent of nervousness.

* * *

“I would have guessed you'd be an old fashioned hand-kneading kind of guy.” Bev noted as she filmed Will setting up his mixer.

“Uh, yeah, I used to be.” Will replied. “But I got a rotator cuff injury back when I was a cop.”

* * *

“Alright, bakers!” Price clapped, drawing everyone’s attention to the front of the tent. “I know you’re all _buzzing_ with energy after that signature bake. Are you ready for today’s technical challenge? It’s a _sticky_ problem - Russian Honey cake!”

“Fun fact about bees,” Zeller added. “Turns out they can make a hive in almost anything. There was a gruesome case in the paper this week where they found a hive in a corpse! Can you _bee-lieve_ it?”

“It’s a good thing we have this _sweet_ gig. I'd hate to deal with something like that!” Price waggled his eyebrows.

* * *

Will was sitting in front of his oven, his vacant gaze fixed on his baking loaf. Sweat beaded on his brow and weighed down his curls.

Hannibal padded over with two cups of coffee from the catering table and crouched down next to Will. “You look like a man in need of a distraction.”

* * *

“Why Freddie, what’s going to be in your pie? I don’t see any meat out.” Bella inquired, surveying Freddie’s counter.

“Oh yes. I'm a vegetarian. I’ll be using chickpeas and potatoes for my savory pie filling.”

* * *

“Mmm, it smells divine over here Mr. Lecter.” Jack hummed, peering into Hannibal’s mixing bowl. “What are you preparing for your filling?”

“Rabbit.” Hannibal replied.

“Ha, he should have hopped faster.” Jack joked as he inspected the crust resting on Hannibal’s counter. Freddie made a sound of disgust and Hannibal turned to regard her.

“I assure you Miss Lounds, I employ a very ethical butcher.” Hannibal explained.

“Hmph. Tell that to the rabbit.” She shot back, frowning.

“I did.” Hannibal smiled and turned back to his pie.

* * *

“You accused me of holding back, of projecting a shallow facade. But I wonder, dear Will, when will you stop playing it safe and let the judges see all that you're capable of?”

* * *

“Shit! Shit shit shit!” Abigail swore. She’d forgotten to grease her tin and now her cake was in pieces. A few large chunks had turned out onto the rack but there was still a large piece stuck in the pan.

Hannibal looked up from icing his first batch of cupcakes. At the same time, Will looked over from measuring out ingredients for his icing. They both abandoned their bakes and headed to Abigail’s bench. She seemed frozen in shock, staring at the cake with a horrified expression on her face.

"It's not as bad as it looks." Will soothed as he offered her one of his flexible spatulas. "And none of it ended up on the floor, so you've got that going for you."

Hannibal chuckled and set out a selection of geometric cutters. "I suggest evolving your showstopper design to include a series of individual cakes."

In the end, Abigail won star baker with her tower of small cakes. Hannibal and Will shared a proud smile and the first glimmers of mutual respect.

* * *

“And how do your students feel being your impromptu baking guinea pigs?”

“To be honest, I think my students think I've finally lost it. But it's either bring my bakes in for them or feed them to my dogs. And my dogs aren't the most discerning eaters.”

* * *

“It’s inspired by my girlfriend.” Francis explained. Zeller and Price nodded in silence, waiting for him to continue, but it seemed that was all Francis had to say.

“He’s quite intense.” Price whispered.

* * *

“What are you making for today's show stopper, Francis?”

“It’s the... Great... Red…. Dragon.” Francis replied breathlessly as he kneaded food coloring into the marzipan. Frederick leaned over to look Francis' sketch.

“Hm. Looks a bit like a tooth fairy to me.” He said condescendingly before turning back to his gold-dusted marzipan monstrosity.

Francis glared at Chilton and continued working in silence.

Price and Zeller backed away slowly.

* * *

Hannibal gazed upon Will’s finale showstopper. It was, at its heart, a simple tiered cake but Will had elevated it to greatness with his chocolate and sugar work. A dark red mirror glaze covered the whole cake, the color so deep it was almost black. Delicate spun-sugar fireflies rested on chocolate fishing hooks piercing the rim of each layer. On the top tier, shards of chocolate and colored sugar were arranged to create the impression of a house adrift on a dark red sea. Will had placed a single candle in the house and its flickering evoked the passing beam of a lighthouse.

Tears pricked the corners of Hannibal’s eyes. “This is all I ever wanted for you.” He whispered to Will, reaching out touch a streak of chocolate on Will’s cheek. “For the both of us.”

Will gazed back at the man who had, over the past season, pressed him to experiment with sugar and chocolate. Who had been infuriating at first with his showmanship and stuffy charm. Who had brought him coffee and patiently listened to Will talk about his fishing flies. Who had subtly led him to see how he could use those skills in his bakes. “It’s... beautiful.” He breathed.

A roar startled both of them out of the moment and they ducked instinctively. A chunk of cake soared over their heads, lobbed at them from across the tent.

Francis, it seemed, wasn’t a very gracious loser.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry/not sorry?


End file.
